Surely he couldn’t know I was headed to St. Croix. No one knew, not even Sissy (until her card came in mail, of course).
He let me go, walked to a locker, opened it and pulled out some papers which, I noticed at a glance, were my tickets to St. Croix.
Ho-ly crap!
He knew I was headed to St. Croix.
“Where did you...?”
“I went to your house. Found these on the dining room table, new luggage and a bunch of shopping in your bedroom,” he replied before I could finish my question, threw the tickets back in the locker and shut the door.
Hell and damnation.
I was beginning to realize it was not such a good thing my boyfriend was a private investigator. Although I had left that stuff out for anyone to see, still.
I was so exasperated at Luke knowing everything, I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and then said something stupid. There was no excuse for it. I should have protected the information with everything I had, taken it to my grave, kept it buried and never let it out, even under torture.
In my defense, I wasn’t myself. Too much had happened to me with Dom, with Ren, with Noah even with f**king Riley and, most especially, with Luke.
That was why I didn’t stop myself before saying, “I can’t believe while I was downstairs with Noah and he was demonstrating why he’s the ultimate jerk, you were searching my house.”
The air in the room instantly went thick with tension, my eyes flew from the ceiling to lock on Luke’s and I realized my mortal mistake when I saw his face had gone stony. Scary stony. Fury-unleashed stony.
Gonzo stony.
“What did you just say?” he asked through his teeth.
“Nothing,” I replied quickly.
“You didn’t say nothin’, you said somethin’.”
“No, I meant –”
He advanced. I retreated.
My back hit the door and he came up close. “He was in your house while I was in your house?”
Like I did the night before, hoping it would work again, I put my hands to his neck to try to get through to him, calm him.
“Luke, please, listen to me –”
“He touched you then, didn’t he?”
My eyes grew wide that he guessed this (how could he guess this?) and, unfortunately, my eyes told the truth for me.
It was then Luke went gonzo. No neck touch, soft voice and pleading were going to help, no way.
He turned from me and, with a vicious blow and a ferocious growl, he punched the wall, his hand going clean through, drywall dust poofing out. I stared in horror as he pulled his hand out of the wall and then punched it again, leaving another hole.
He wasn’t quite through. After Wall Punch Two, he turned, walked to a locker and punched that. His fist against the steel made a huge noise and my horrified stare turned part terrified, part amazed when the steel buckled and the sides of the door bowed out. He hit it again then again and I charged him.
“Luke!” I shouted, throwing my arms around him to stop him from hurting himself. If he kept doing that he was going to crush his hand. “Stop it! Please, stop!”
His arm sliced around my waist lifting me clean off my feet, up through the air. He took three long strides and I landed on my ass on the counter of the kitchenette. He closed in, coming between my legs, his hands, one of them bloody, moving to either side of my face. He held on and stared at me, his face hard and angry and my heart was beating like a jackhammer.
It was then the door opened. I looked over his shoulder and Lee, Vance and Mace were there making the room seem even smaller.
“What the f**k is goin’ on?” Lee asked.